


Tales of Cintra

by Llama1412



Series: Families of Choice [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode Related, Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, F/M, Gen, M/M, Suicide, Warnings for chapter 3:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Stories in the Families of Choice universe featuring our favorite Cintrans and their occasional bard.The only actual foreknowledge needed is that Jaskier is friends with Calanthe and has an open invitation to spend time in Cintra.Latest chapter summary: Mousesack approaches Jaskier the morning after Pavetta's Betrothal Dinner. Geralt hadn't taken his eyes off the bard, after all.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Families of Choice [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660492
Comments: 16
Kudos: 203





	1. Secrets and Habits

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably make more sense if you've read [5 Dinners with the Lioness (And 1 with the Lion Cub)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100103/chapters/55266412), but all you really need to know going in is that Jaskier is friends with Calanthe - they met in court when Calanthe was crowned Queen of Cintra, and he read her a poem he'd written for her. He was also 8.

Jaskier processed by speaking out loud. It comes in handy, since silence makes him uncomfortable. He thinks most thought processes out loud.

But when Calanthe invited him into Cintra’s court, he became privy to information that could be damaging, if the wrong party overheard him. And as Calanthe was fond of saying, the walls have ears.

He’d tried so hard at first to keep silent, to never let anything important slip. Calanthe saw him struggling – well, probably everyone ever saw him struggling. But Calanthe was the one to bring him a solution. If he had to process through getting the words out, through considering them, then he could write them down, as long as he burned anything incriminating immediately, and scattered the ashes.

He’d gotten into the habit. 

Of course, these days, he tends to have access to less sensitive information. Or maybe more, depending on what your interests were. See, these days, Jaskier roamed the land as a traveling bard, collecting stories where he goes and sharing the tales of the great White Wolf. Oh, he still spent time in Cintra, of course – though, Geralt didn’t know that. Geralt wasn’t exactly fond of _nobility_ and _royalty_ and honestly, Jaskier agreed with him 100%, though he did enjoy the occasional vacation to court. He also enjoyed visiting many of the _fans_ of his work when he was at court. Admittedly, his perfectly legitimate fear/respect for Calanthe kept him mostly in line in Cintra. He does know what lines he needs to tow – that’s part of why he likes traveling! No need to play politics on the road. Just adventure, heroics, and heartbreak. And a little death and Destiny. 

Calanthe’s favor kept him safe in many ways, but Calanthe was always cautious and would always put Cintra first. He knew that if he pushed too far, if he put Calanthe in a position where she had to choose between Cintra and Jaskier, he would lose.

He was okay with that, honestly. That wasn’t so much to ask in exchange for the fierce friendship and protection of the Lioness. But it did mean that to avoid getting into too much trouble, it was best if Jaskier’s visits at court remained...short. 

Which served him well, though there were some luxuries that truly could not be replaced on the road, not even with magic or all the coin he’d ever had. 

The secrets he held on the road were less perilous, but it was habit by now. The ashes of his thought processes revolved less around the machinations of court, and more around the gentleness of a Witcher, the heroics of a man who truly believes in doing good.

Geralt had noticed the habit early in their acquaintance, of course. Jaskier had thought of telling him the story of it, debated it with himself on page after page after page of what was now ashes. Ultimately, he decided telling Geralt about his relationship with royalty needed to be handled differently – but he gave Geralt hints. He admitted to noble birth (with the way he enjoyed the finer things in life, he hardly passed as anything else), told the Witcher that his first friend in court had taught him the trick. But no details. Calanthe’s introduction needed to be special.

After all, she’d been prodding him for years to bring “the damn Witcher he’s so besotted with” to court.

What could go wrong?


	2. The Moment He Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eist's POV during the fight at Pavetta's Banquet.

He knew Calanthe would be his the moment she cut down another in his defense. Oh, it was not the first time they had been in battle together, but it was the first time he had ever defied her. And oh, how he hated to do so. But Destiny could not be challenged! They could not bear the consequences of denying the order of the world – debt must be paid. He hated to go against Calanthe, but he would always do everything he could to protect her – even if she would never forgive him for it.

That split second of fear had frozen him when Calanthe approached with her blade at the ready. He could not raise his weapon against her. Even when they sparred, she was victorious more often than not. And to raise his steel with the intent to harm? He could never. But he would willingly die to protect her from Destiny’s wrath.

He ducked, and she slayed the man who had been creeping up behind him. 

At that moment, he knew that she was his. Whatever happened, however politics unfolded, Eist knew in that moment that Calanthe loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting all invested in these dorks now, so feel free to send me any Calanthe/Eist or Cintra Family prompts!


	3. Facing the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calanthe's thoughts in her final moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Suicide  
> This is a look at Calanthe's thoughts before she commits suicide in the show. Please only read if you feel safe to do so.

After Mousesack and Lazlo took Ciri away and Danek left to provide the poison to the castle’s inhabitant, Calanthe’s last task was complete. The last hope in this world lived with Ciri, and with all the faith left within her, she prayed that Ciri would safely see this war through to the end.

For Calanthe, the end was soon approaching. She approached the window and looked down on the fate she’d brought on her people by denying Destiny. Her city burned before her eyes, her people’s screams echoing in the night, along with the stench of blood and decay. To the south, her beloved lay dead in another field of decomposing corpses. There had been no time to give the dead an honorable send off. She wasn’t likely to get one either.

Was this to be Cintra’s final fate? For their bodies to be condemned to rot until the corpse-eaters come? Was this the price Destiny demanded?

Well, she’d always known Destiny was a bitch. This just proved it – if this was the penalty for denying Fate, then she was glad she had spared Ciri this long. She just hoped the girl would find people to support her down whatever path Fate demanded.

Calanthe took her final breathe in the night air. She would be joining Eist soon. And Pavetta, she would finally be reunited with her daughter. With that in mind, it was really quite easy to let go of the window frame and just let herself fall.


	4. Ciri's First Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calanthe is concerned about ulterior motives Ciri’s closest friend might have. She needn’t have worried – it was obvious to any with eyes how much the two adored each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [DirtyPinkTeaKettle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyPinkTeaKettle/pseuds/DirtyPinkTeaKettle): Ciri showing interest in a boy (or girl!) for the first time, and how our lovely trio deals with it.  
> The trio here was supposed to be Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer, but uh…this is what happened instead. At least Jaskier is here?

Ciri loved to play with the grandniece of Calanthe’s Lady’s Maid. It wasn’t entirely proper, but Calanthe had been determine to make sure that her own lonely childhood would not be repeated. Calanthe hadn’t been around many children as a child. She had only found her first friend when she was 14 because Julian was audacious enough to approach the Queen. She had sworn that she would not make her own children wait that long to find someone to relate to.

So Calanthe had encouraged courtiers to bring their children to court when Pavetta was young. She employed caretakers and teachers to watch over the children, rather than continuing her family’s tradition of private tutors for the heir. It was important for a ruler to have allies and friends to depend on. Providing the opportunity for Pavetta and later Ciri to meet other children their age was simply logical.

Her Lady’s Maid, Marzanna, came from an ambitious family. As the third daughter of Marzanna’s second son, Lena had few options to get ahead in life. The best marriage prospects would go to her oldest brother and sister, leaving Lena at the mercy of whomever offered her father the sweetest deal.

So when Lena and Ciri had become inseparable, Calanthe suspected that Lena was using Ciri to raise her standing in life. With the Princess’ favor, Lena would have no moving up in life. If that was her motive, Calanthe would have to put a stop to this friendship. Ciri could not afford to trust an advisor with ulterior motives.

The next time Julian returned to Cintra, she shared her suspicions. Calanthe invited him for tea on the terrace that just so happened to overlook the two girls playing in the garden and laid out her concerns.

Julian laughed, “Callie, Darling, anyone with eyes can see that’s not why the two of them hang out.”

Calanthe slammed her knife point-first into the table next to Julian’s teacup. “Do not call me that,” she ground out evenly. 

She was impressed when he barely flinched, and only raised an eyebrow at her, though she noticed he kept his hands well out of stabbing range. “Look at them, Calanthe. Forget all your worries and concerns and just look. What do you see?”

What a ridiculous question. Calanthe scoffed, but stared down at Ciri. The girls were sitting on a bench under a large fig tree, playing some sort of clapping game. They were singing a nonsensical rhyme that was probably one of Julian’s. Lena was staring at Ciri with a big grin on her face. Her eyes never strayed from Ciri, even as they clapped their hands together in different motions. Ciri, on the other hand, seemed to be unable to meet Lena’s eye. Her cheeks were pink, and she was biting her lip on a smile, but the corners of her mouth kept turning up.

Calanthe narrowed her eyes. It couldn’t be… She snapped at Julian, “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

She wasn’t looking at him, but judging from the hand she could see in her periphery, he had thrown his arms open dramatically. “They’re smitten with each other, Cala. It’s as obvious as the crown on your head.”

Without looking, she punched him in the shoulder. "How many times do I have to say, no nicknames!?” She crossed her arms. “If you’re right, that’s even worse! If Ciri thinks she loves her, Lena can manipulate her!”

Julian took a deep breath and exhaled it in a dramatic sigh. “It’s not just Ciri. Look at Lena, she’s totally lovestruck! She’s staring into Ciri’s eyes so deeply I don’t think she’s even blinking anymore.”

Calanthe set her jaw. “The girl’s young still. It won’t last. And when she grows up, Lena’s loyalties will be divided.”

“Why? Just because her family is ambitious? So was mine, if you’ll recall.”

“That’s different.”

Julian’s foot knocked into hers under the table and he smiled at her. “Because she likes some of her family? According to Ciri, her parents barely write to her. Marzanna is the only one she cares about, and Marzanna is loyal to you. Unless you’re doubting that now.”

“Of course not,” Calanthe said. “Ciri talks to you about Lena?”

He sighed noisily. “She wanted to talk to someone who  _ understands _ romance. Frankly, you’d be last on that list for just about everyone.”

She kicked his ankle sharply in retaliation for that, but she could admit to herself that he was right. Eist was the romantic one in their relationship, and his gestures usually tilted more towards ridiculous than romantic. Calanthe, on the other hand, had to give herself a pre-battle speech before she could hold her husband’s hand in public. “What did she say, then?”

Julian slapped a hand to his chest, “I would never betray a confidence!”

“Really? Because your story the other day about the Countess de Stael –”

“Nevermind that! I would never betray an  _ important _ confidence. Er, not to say that the Countess isn’t important, she’s quite wonderful truly, but you know what I mean –”

“Yes, yes, shut up.” Calanthe cut off his rambling. “You truly believe Lena poses no threat to Ciri?” Not that his answer would decide the matter. But a Queen must take all perspectives into account before making a decision.

He put his hand on hers and met her eyes with a seriousness that surprised her. “I believe that Lena loves Ciri the way Eist loves you. She will take whatever Ciri is willing to give her and she will do anything to see her happy.” 

Calanthe held their gazes for a long moment, trying to decide what she believed. Finally, her shoulders relaxed, and she leaned back in her chair. “I will trust in that, for now.” And she would. But when it comes to Ciri’s safety, she had to plan for the worst.

Nearly a year later, it turned out Julian was quite correct – Lena would do anything for Ciri. That’s why she was the perfect choice to play Ciri’s stand-in for the damn witcher Destiny had tied her to. Lena knew Ciri better than anyone, she would be able to convince Geralt of who she was. And she knew the stakes, knew that Ciri’s life rested in her hands.

There weren’t many Calanthe would trust with that burden. But Lena looked up at her with resolute eyes and a firm jaw, even as her voice wobbled.

“I need you to be brave now, because who are you?”

“The Lion Cub of Cintra.”


	5. Fruits of Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Calanthe was hardly known for her diplomacy. But there was an upside to wining and dining diplomats - she got to enjoy serving them fruits they had no idea how to eat and were slightly scared to look directly at. Featuring rambutans and noni fruit.

Queen Calanthe was hardly known for her diplomacy. That is to say, when it came to a choice between the carrot and the stick, she much preferred the stick. But there was one part of diplomacy that was her absolute favorite.

Most Northerners didn’t realize how far south Cintra actually was, and what that meant for their climate. Unlike the icy coast of Redania or the snow capped mountains of Temeria, Cintra boasted warmer temperatures much of the year. Cintra’s coast was tropical – meaning you could actually enjoy the damn ocean, even if Cintrans weren’t as obsessed with seafaring skills as Skelligers were (Calanthe and Eist had a longstanding argument about which coast was better. The answer was obviously Cintra’s).

For diplomacy, what this meant was that plants native to Cintra were wholly unfamiliar to other Northerners. Which led to Calanthe’s favorite ritual.

When hosting diplomatic representatives, it’s important to spoil them. That’s how most of the work gets done, quite honestly – amid flattery and promises to provide the best services for the highest quality gold. Sometimes they even carried through on those promises.

But part of spoiling diplomats is wining and dining them. Cintran court holds banquets regularly (and Calanthe has successfully eschewed wearing anything but armor at several of them), but the most common “cause for celebration” was a new treaty or business arrangement with an ally (or, rarer, but much more notable, with an enemy). Diplomats were shallow people, Calanthe found. All they wanted was to be pampered and to pretend that they’re important. That’s what made them so easy to manipulate. And it’s what made their sensibilities so very entertaining – they found the greatest offense at the smallest of things! Usually that meant the Castle Steward had to do everything possible to appease them: moving the Cidarin ambassador to quarters that faced the coast to ‘excise the dark energies of her colleagues’, promising the Temerian envoy that no, there was no dairy in the roast suckling pig, or rooming the Aedirnian and Kaedweni representatives on opposite sides of the castle from each other. Calanthe’s favorite moments were those in which the irritating envoys were deeply offended, but unable to show it because of propriety. (Ruling a kingdom was a lot of work, okay? She had to take her victories where she could.)

  
  


For feasts, the kitchens always prepared the finest selection of Cintra’s best tropical fruits. Depending on how familiar the guests were with Cintra (and how many times they’d done this before), the featured fruit of the night changed. They were always presented raw, not yet prepared for serving. Calanthe enjoyed watching people try to figure out how to eat these delicacies while trying to hide their disgust. Ironically, many of their “guests” had tried these fruits before – tropical fruit was a primary export of Cintra, after all – but of course, that was prepared by the kitchen staff and they never knew what it started out looking like. 

Calanthe’s preferred fruit was the tamest option, but it had the bonus of tasting good without smelling awful. And reactions to it were always so entertaining. When the red berries were first served, covered with fleshy pliable spines, no one wanted to touch them. Well, none of the guests. Rambutans were a local delicacy, after all – those who enjoyed them were quick to descend. 

Tonight, the feast was being held in honor of the Nazairi Duke Nevin, who had been sent to renegotiate their timber trade deal. The honored guest next to her clearly had no idea how to eat the fruit on his plate. Calanthe enjoyed making things more difficult for him – she had long ago mastered the art of opening the peel with a quick flick of her teeth and popping the fruit into her mouth before her guest could figure out what she’d done. She sucked on the pulp, and spit the seed into a dish, to the disgusted amazement of the Duke. By the end of the night, though, Calanthe was able to add a new shipment of rambutans to their trade agreement at a good price for Cintra.

Rambutans were only beginner level fun – they were perfect for first-timers, and Calanthe got a lovely snack out of it. But there were other, next-level fruits that were reserved for diplomatic parties that really irritated her. One in particular, which the kitchen staff called "vomit fruit", was reserved for the worst of the worst. Mostly because she had to put up with the smell of it, too.

She enjoyed the effect this one had on guests, but Calanthe honestly didn’t love the taste of them herself. Even in Cintra, they were very hit or miss – you either loved noni, or you wanted to vomit. No in between.

But the faces people made; It was the high point of any feast! Noni were small fruit with random outcroppings of wart-like growths, and when they were just perfectly ripe, they were a pale white color. Oh, and the smell – the smell got worse the riper the fruit. It was considered an honor to be offered the most horrendous smelling plate – an honor she always ensured her guest enjoyed. Even if it meant sitting next to them. She was the Lioness of Cintra, she was more than capable of keeping her stomach in check for one evening. 

The true test was when they tasted it. When a dedicated guest finally steeled themselves enough to try a bite, their faces went one of two ways: scrunched in absolute disgust at the rotten cheese-like flavor, or blinking in surprised delight at the way the bitter fruit complemented the salad it was served in. Calanthe could never predict which way a person would go – she personally fell into the rotten cheese category. But either way, there was a full night of entertainment to be had out of watching their guests’ reaction to the dish.

Running a kingdom was often a tedious, time-consuming task. Calanthe had learned long ago to take enjoyment where she could find it – and if that meant hosting feasts every other week and breathing through her mouth to avoid the noni smell, it was absolutely worth it for the looks on people’s faces. Better entertainment than money could buy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rambutan:](https://images.app.goo.gl/ggervgNxs1APvnid6) They look like red hairy berries, with a smooth, sweet white fruit within. The hairy exterior easily peels with your fingers, but don’t eat the seed in the center of the fruit. Apparently it is not uncommon to see locals open them with a quick flick of their teeth, popping the fruit directly in their mouth, sucking on the pulp, and spitting out the seed [[x](https://costaricainsights.wordpress.com/tag/mamon-chino-en-costa-rica/)], like Calanthe does.  
> [Noni:](https://images.app.goo.gl/VcnCdRxCd7zUJCfF9) They look like small ovals with random outcroppings of wart-like growths [[x](https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/d38xz7/an-ode-to-the-noni-the-worlds-most-disgusting-fruit)] and the color changes from green to white as it ripens. The vomit-like stench also gets worse as it ripens. The taste changes as the fruit ripens, and is described as similar to rotten cheese. It’s nicknamed the vomit fruit for a reason. When it’s fully ripe is the best time to eat: just peel it and eat it raw or cook it. The seeds are safe to eat, but can also be spit out [[x](https://www.wikihow.com/Eat-Noni-Fruit)].


	6. Heard It Through the Grapevine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mousesack approaches Jaskier the morning after Pavetta's Betrothal Dinner. Geralt hadn't taken his eyes off the bard, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is actually canon stuff to back me up re: Mousesack and Geralt being childhood friends! By which I mean, the wikia page says they were and I ran with it.

“So,” the druid who had spoken to Geralt like a friend approached Jaskier the day after Pavetta’s banquet. Also known as the double marriage of the royals of Cintra. Jaskier was pleased for Calanthe, finally letting herself have her man, but the whole evening had been one disaster after another, and just thinking about it made Jaskier tired. 

He shook his head and focused on the druid in front of him. “Hi?” The druid smiled. It was a good look on him – his dark beard framed his lips the same way his hair framed his face. Jaskier approved of his style.

“My name is Mousesack,” he said. “I am an advisor to the Skellige crown, and I have decided to stay in Cintra to serve King Eist.” He tilted his head and looked Jaskier over appraisingly. “I’ve heard you’re the Queen’s best friend. And Geralt didn’t take his eyes off you at the feast. Who are you?”

Jaskier blinked. “Well, kind of sounds like you already know? But far be it from me to miss the opportunity to introduce myself. I am Jaskier,” he bowed elaborately. If this Mousesack was going to be hanging around, it would be best for him to learn early exactly what he was getting into – drama and all. “And I can indeed claim the friendship of the White Wolf and the Lioness. Hmm, that’s a fun way to say it. I should write that down.” Distracted, Jaskier patted himself down until he found his notebook.

“Geralt didn’t say much about you, but I’ve known him since childhood. I don’t know if he’s ever looked at anyone the way he looks at you.” Mousesack said, which – wow. He knew that Geralt’s trust had been hard won and he considered it the highest honor that Geralt bestowed it upon him. But was he really that special? Had Geralt really gone all these years without an affectionate companion? Was this man in front of him the only other who Geralt considered a friend?

He hoped not. Geralt deserved so much love. Jaskier desperately hoped that more and more people would learn to see the man under the scary Witcher exterior.

“Thank you?” Jaskier said, his voice tilting up at the end to become a question. How was he supposed to respond to that?

“Hmm,” Mousesack hummed consideringly. “And Queen Calanthe? There cannot be many she trusts, and yet, she hardly acknowledged you at the banquet.”

“Well, she doesn’t really need to. I don’t really stick around long enough to be in on the politics of Court, you know? So she doesn’t have to worry about showing me favor or if doing so might piss off someone else.” Jaskier shrugged. “But even so, as you demonstrated, our friendship is not unknown. I visit Cintra at least once a year – all the regulars know me, know my connection. Though this  _ was _ supposed to be my chance to show off before every noble and king in the continent.” He sighed dramatically, throwing his body into it.

“Didn’t that still happen?” Mousesack pointed out.

“Sure, but no one will be talking about it! Who cares about the music when the White Wolf sat at the Lioness’ table, and a hedgehog claimed the Princess’ hand, and the Princess apparently has magic – which none of us knew, by the way –  _ and _ now Calanthe and Eist are finally together! There will be many, many tales of last night, but none of them will be about the bard,” Jaskier smiled wryly. “I do feel a little bad, accidentally making Geralt to target of Court gossip. He’s definitely gonna hate it.”

Mousesack cocked an eyebrow, which did not at all make him look appealing. “You brought Geralt to the event of the century and you didn’t think people would gossip about him?”

“Well, no one was supposed to know who he was! I had it all planned – he was just gonna blend into the background, pretend to be mute and intimidate anyone who wanted to knife me. And then after the feast, I’d introduce him to Calanthe and my best friends could finally meet.” He sighed. “Well, they definitely met.”

“Yeah,” Mousesack’s exhale sounded a bit like a chuckle. “Your plan was terrible. And why did you dress him like a sad silk trader? You’re rumored to have an immaculate sense of fashion.”

Jaskier winced. He had perhaps been more focused on the symbolism of Geralt wearing his clothes than on how the overall outfit looked. Which was all the more ridiculous given he would have had time to commission an outfit for Geralt. He just – well, he was a poet. He was allowed to be sentimental. And having Geralt clad in his clothing, wearing the buttercup doublet he’d originally gotten for himself – he hadn’t been able to resist. “Yeeeeeah, well, his clothes were covered with selkimore guts, so be glad I didn’t bring him like that!”

Mousesack snorted. “He would probably appreciate the way it would keep everyone away from him.”

Jaskier snorted. “He totally would.” He gave Mousesack a sidelong look. If he’d known Geralt for years… “His arse looked fantastic in those pants, though, you have to admit.” Odds were pretty good that Mousesack had fucked Geralt if they’d known each other so long. Geralt liked sex  _ a lot,  _ and despite his solliloques about the ugliness of Witchers, he had a number of regular partners in cities all over the continent. Jaskier wanted to be just like Geralt someday.

Mousesack laughed openly, the sound warm and uplifting. Jaskier found himself grinning before he knew it. “It did indeed,” Mousesack chuckled. “Probably the only reason he agreed to wear them.” Jaskier burst into laughter. It was probably true. Geralt was just as much of a slut as he himself was. It made their own rolls in the hay absolutely delightful. Speaking of, Mousesack was certainly nice to look at. Any other time, Jaskier would be angling to get them into bed. But, “you’ve really known him since childhood? Like, before he became a Witcher?”

Mousesack’s smile turned fond. “I have. He was brought to stay with the druid circle in Skellige for a time when we were both children. We were close then, but it’s difficult for children to stay in touch. The next time I saw him, he was already a Witcher.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s had a friend all this time.” Jaskier said. He can’t imagine what it must have been like for Mousesack, to encounter a friend who was now different, now  _ hurt _ in a way he hadn’t been before. Geralt didn’t talk much about becoming a Witcher, but Jaskier had gotten the sense that it was a very painful and sometimes deadly process. A process no one should ever have been put through, and yet every generation inflicted it on children again. Jaskier couldn’t understand that, how somebody could do that. It felt horrible, being thankful that at least his guardians had only ever ignored him. He doubted he could’ve survived everything Geralt has. He doubts pretty much anyone could’ve survived it all. And somehow Geralt saw himself as a curse instead of a miracle.

Mousesack sighed. “So, who has to try to convince him to honor the Law of Surprise?” 

“Oh fuck, not me please. You know what he’s like about  _ Destiny.” _ Jaskier ran a hand over his face. “Fuck, I already have to try to convince Calanthe.”

“Good luck to us both.” Jaskier felt a hand on his shoulder and looked into Mousesack’s soft grey eyes. He really was rather handsome. Surely Geralt wouldn’t mind sharing a fuckbuddy. 


End file.
